Hi folks! This is my new Weechester-Story.
There's time everyone needs a little help, because there are times where destiny strikes and you can't do anything against it.
And destiny isn't always something supernatural!? ;) (Sam 4/Dean 8)
I don't own them... and I don't want money. Just doing it for you guys to enjoy a story!
-Lee
TRAITOR
Then:
It was late as he sat on one of the tables at the Roadhouse, listening to the banter of others like him. The name "Winchester" caught his attention. And he listened to the words the person known as Pastor Elkin, a medium, a prophet had to say. His gut churning more and more in anger with every word spoken…
„He's dangerous! He's raised as a warrior. And he knows the weaknesses of our kin. He'll be a traitor. He'll use his knowledge to enslave mankind. He must be stopped."
The three men listened to Pastor Elkin, nodding at the man's words. He needed to be stopped! At all costs!
SPNSPN
It had been a slow evening. John enjoyed being at home. They had cooked Spaghetti and he started to grin as he remembered Sammy eating, tomato-sauce all over his face and shirt. It was a mess. Now it was past ten and it was time for both boys to go to bed. "Daaaad!" Dean whined. "Can't we stay up a little longer? We're not tired!" John raised his eyebrows at that. "And you're yawning why?" he smiled as Dean tried to close his mouth to stop.
"Bed. Now!" he commanded, still grinning.
"Daaadddyyy!" Sammy squealed. "Do you gonna read us a story?" Dean rolled his eyes at his little brother's request. John laughed, and scooped Sammy up in his arms. "We'll see. First you have to get changed!"
The first rumbling of a spring-time thunderstorm was harbinger of the drama that night.
He was almost asleep, as the loud crashing of thunder startled him. He sat up in his bed, watching at the dancing shadows created by bypassing cars. As he turned to watch out the window, he froze, looking at the dark figure wearing a hat watching him. His heartbeat sped up and he felt his mouth go dry as adrenalin rushed through his body. He blinked trying to clear the cobwebs from his vision… and then the figure was gone.
Instead the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something was happening. His boys!
At the same moment a window broke somewhere in the small house, mixing with the sound of yet another loud thunder. He was out of his bed, grabbing for his silver knife, running to the room of his children.
An ear-piercing scream echoed through the house and John felt himself freeze inside as he recognized the voice of his baby-boy.
He knew that nothing supernatural could cross the lines of salt on every windowsill and every doorstep of the house. He listened to something hitting the wall hard, hearing a strangled cry from his other boy, and then he had kicked open the door, ready to fight the attacker.
At his entrance he felt himself tackled from two meaty henchmen, both trying to pin him to the ground, but John was strong and fast. He fought dirty, kicking the first one into the groin, receiving a squealing sound as the bastard went down and ripped himself free from the second goon, as he saw Sammy being dragged back to the window by a third person. "Daddy! Let go of me! Daddy! Help me! Daddy!" the small boy fought with everything he had. Where was Dean! He almost had reached the third intruder as something hit him square at the shoulder-blades, letting him topple over, and before he could rise again, his head connected with something and his vision grew hazy. He still could hear the cries of his little boy… and no sound from his oldest… but his worry faded away with his consciousness…
...
He stopped with squealing tires. Not caring about shutting down the engine. This was too important. With hurried steps he ran up the few stairs to the porch and the front-door. So far nothing seemed to be disturbed. With force he knocked against the door, waiting impatiently for some reaction. Getting none, he tried a second time, but again he received no answer.
He stood back and kicked at the door. One time, two times and on the third time it bulged, revealing the darkness that lurked behind it.
He drew his gun, flicking the safety off. This was no good. John would have been awake by now. Slowly he moved further into the small house, relying only on his hearing. From somewhere a groan could be heard and Bobby followed the noise, stopping dead at the door that led to the boy's room. John was lying in the middle of the room sprawled out and only on the verge of consciousness. He flicked on the light and was at the fallen man's side with two fast steps. "Winchester! John! John! Where are the boys! John, come one man, you need to wake up…" John's eyes snapped open. "Bobby?" he asked confused, than the confusion was replaced by panic. "They took Sammy! They took Sammy! And Dean… where's Dean…" He fought himself into a sitting position, ignoring the splitting headache. He needed to find his children… and then he felt his breath hitch in his throat as he saw the crimson smear, running along the wall and the crumbled heap, lying at the bottom of it. Bobby saw him staring, and followed his gaze. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, as both man looked at the small unmoving form. "Oh-my-lord…" Bobby breathed…
TBC...
Well? You like it so far??